single piece, are strapped to the instep.

* * * * *

Having made herself generally acquainted with the Icelanders and their
mode of living, Madame Pfeiffer began to visit the most romantic and
interesting spots in the island accessible to an adventurous woman. At
first she confined herself to the neighbourhood of Reikiavik. She
journeyed, for instance, to the island of Vidoe, the cliffs of which are
frequented by the eider-duck. Its tameness while brooding is very
remarkable. "I had always looked," she says, "on the wonderful stories I
had heard on this subject as fabulous, and should do still had I not been
an eye-witness to the fact. I approached and laid my hands on the birds
while they were sitting; yes, I could even caress them without their
attempting to move from their nests; or, if they left them for a moment,
it was only to walk off for a few steps, and remain quietly waiting till
I withdrew, when they immediately returned to their station. Those whose
young were already hatched, however, would beat their wings with
violence, and snap at me with their bills when I came near them, rather
allowing themselves to be seized than to desert their broods. In size
they resemble our common duck; their eggs are of a greenish-gray, rather
larger than hens' eggs, and of an excellent flavour. Each bird lays
about eleven eggs. The finest down is that with which they line their
nests at first; it is of a dark gray, and is regularly carried off by the
islanders with the first eggs. The poor bird then robs itself of a
second portion of its down, and lays a few more eggs, which are also
seized; and it is not till the nest has been felted for the third time
that the ducks are left unmolested to bring up their brood. The down of
the second, and particularly that of the third hatching, is much lighter
than the first, and of an inferior quality."

The salmon-fishery at the Larsalf next engaged our traveller's attention.
It is conducted after a primitively simple fashion. When the fish at
spawning-time seek the quiet waters of the inland stream, their way back
to the sea is blocked up by an embankment of loose stones, about three
feet high. In front of this wall is extended a net; and several similar
barriers are erected at intervals of eighty to a hundred paces, to
prevent the fish which have slipped over one of them from finally
accomplishing their escape. A day is appointed for a grand _battue_. The
water is then